“What do you think the practical is?”

Chloe Gordon’s question dragged Dwayne’s focus away from reviewing of Qe spell canon and back to following Professor Corn and his class through the Magisterium grounds. They were already pretty far from Kamdyn School, where the beginner Earth Qe classes were taught.

“I don’t know.” He still wasn’t used to having anyone, other than the currently absent Francesca, talk to him during class. “It’ll probably be big.”

“Just so long as its not a group thing again.” Chloe picked at the white lilies stitched into her padded tunic. “I hate making up for sloppy work.”

As the granddaughter of the Earth Sage, hers was never sloppy.

Dwayne shrugged. “Then don’t partner with me.”

“That sounds fascinating.” Chloe’s eyes lit up. “Combining your unorthodoxy with my canon should make for some amazing results!”

Her excitement drew the confusion of their classmates, who’d only barely gotten used to the idea of Francesca talking to Dwayne.

He hadn’t missed their attention. “Where do you think we’re going?”

“Latia Arena.”

Chloe pointed to a large oval shaped building bristling with heroic friezes of Golden Age mages, none of whom Dwayne recognized though if he wanted to, he knew who to ask. However, then he’d have to explain what he’d said yesterday and that meant risking another trip right up to the cliff of “what he wanted to do with Magdala Gallus.”

“Here we are.” Professor Corn stopped at the top of a hill and gestured at what lay below. “Your field for today’s practical.”

There, on a wide grassy lawn, were thirteen primitive wooden huts, each numbered and sheltering a collection of lit lanterns while supporting a pile of heavy stone.

“Oh, no.” Chloe’s hand covered her mouth. “He wouldn’t.”

Dwayne frowned. “He wouldn’t what?”

“Your practical for today,” Professor Corn whirled to face them, the movement calculated to show off his white and green robes, “is to emulate my greatest moment: rescuing Baron Campbell’s son from a collapsed mine. It was the start of spring-”

Dwayne examined the huts. “I assume this is hard.”

Chloe nodded. “Very much so.”

“-mining was difficult as the snowmelt always weakens the soil,” Professor Corn continued as he paced back and forth. “However, Baron Campbell-”

“Professor,” a whoosh of wind accompanied Francesca’s alighting next to Dwayne, “I’m sure that is a fascinating tale, but shouldn’t we get started? Before lunchtime preferably?”

“Miss Lucchesi.” The professor raised his chin, trying to look imperious. “What is the meaning of this tardiness?”

Francesca flipped her hair back. “I had a meeting with Director Giordano that couldn’t wait.”

Corn’s eyes widened. “D-director Giordano?”

The professor’s shock matched Dwayne’s own although not for the same reason. Francesca had never been particularly respectful of Professor Corn, but she’d never been outright dismissive of him.

Francesca gave Corn a look. “The practical, Professor?”

“Well, uh…” Corn cleared his throat. “I’ll, uh, tell you of my efforts another time.” He turned to the huts. “‘amde!”

Each pile of stone trembled then crushed the hut beneath it, reducing both to a heap of cracked stone and splintered wood.

As dust plumed into the gray sky, Professor Corn turned back to his class.

“I’ve arranged you into groups of three. Each group will work to ‘rescue’ the lanterns from the collapse. Rescue one and the group will receive a passing mark. Each one rescued beyond that add ten points to the marks on each member’s final examination. The keen eyed among you may have noticed that the lanterns had been lit. Rescuing a lit lantern means passing my class.” He paused to enjoy the surprised murmurs. “As for what happens when you fail to rescue a single lantern?” The professor’s eyes landed on Dwayne. “Total failure.”

Oh, good, another day in class then.

“Cups, he’s petty.” Francesca noticed Chloe. “Oh, hello. Chloe Gordon, right?”

“Miss Lucchesi.” The younger student blushed. “My sister says hi.”

“Which one, Cicily or Winifred?”

Chloe blinked. “Which one did you date?”

Francesca tilted her head. “Both. That’s why I’m asking.”

Leaving Chloe to her shock, Dwayne let his attention drifted down to the collapsed huts. Assuming that Corn had made sure at least one lantern survived the collapse, he should probably focus on moving the heavy stones first. While each pile had had a mix of round and flat stones, ensuring they’d collapse into a messy jumble, a group of three shouldn’t have much trouble if two of them moved stones while the third rescued lanterns. Unfortunately, there were thirteen huts and thirty-seven students in Corn’s class. Someone was going to be left out and Dwayne wasn’t surprised when Corn handed him the number thirteen, the only one he hadn’t handed to anyone else.

If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

“Apologies, young Kalan,” Corn’s eyes gleamed, “it looks like there aren’t enough students to make another group of three. You’ll have to do it alone.”

“Right.” Dwayne felt only exhaustion. “What a shame.”

“I can switch groups,” said Chloe.

“Miss Gordon,” Corn gave her a fatherly smile, “while your sense of charity is inspiring, this is your chance to pass my course and move on to one that truly challenges you. You and I both know you shouldn’t be here among these neophytes.”

“But-”

“Young Kalan, I suggest you get started. As Miss Lucchesi pointed out, time is slipping away.”

“Why is he doing this?” asked Chloe when the professor was out of earshot.

“Politics.” Francesca sighed. “I’d help, but my Earth Qe couldn’t save a bug from falling paper.”

“Being late didn’t help.” Dwayne glanced at her. “What Director Giordano want with you?”

Francesca shrugged. “Nothing. It’s not important.”

Right and this practical was going to be a walk in the park for Dwayne. “But-”

“Let’s get started.” Corn led the way down the hill. “I have to run this again after lunch.”

“Then why waste our time with some silly story?” muttered Francesca with surprising venom.

Something was up, but Dwayne knew that lunch would probably fix it. “Good lu-”

“Don’t.” Francesca glared at him. “We’ll have words about yesterday.”

She flounced off before Dwayne could reply, pulling an apologetic Chloe along in her wake.

That was a problem for another day. Dwayne descended down to collapsed hut number thirteen and assessed his task. His jaw clenched. His pile of wreckage was notably taller than its neighbors and had enough stone in it that it would take ages for even three Qe mages to move, let alone one. It didn’t help that the Qe core Magdala had given him traded efficiency for flexibility, meaning it drained his stamina far more so than the spell vials or shunts ever had. Even after running numerous tests and exercises, the most Qe spells he’d managed to cast in a row was four.

That was a record he was breaking today. The Head Clerk of the Royal Sorcerer’s Office did not afford fail classes and also had a load of other problems to deal with, including setting up something big enough to undo the damage of yesterday.

First things first. He had to assess the situation.

Circling the rubble, Dwayne peered into every hole he could find in the fallen stone. It didn’t look good. His pile was made of mainly flat stones, which had slid over and across each other into a proper jumble. If he pulled one out carelessly, the whole thing was sure to collapse completely, snuffing out his chances of passing. There was hope though, flickering in the dark gloom, barely visible through a fist-sized hole in the rubble, protected by a roof beam currently jammed between two of the heavier stones: a lit oil lantern.

Unfortunately, the one hole he could see it through was too small to pull it through. Widening the hole required moving half the stones in the pile and risked snapping the beam protecting the lantern, but that was beside the point because, aside from how strenuous it was to use, the Qe core also couldn’t be used to prepare spells so he couldn’t do it that way to being with.

“You can give up.” Professor Corn was standing behind him. “I’m sure Lady Pol would understand.”

Dwayne didn’t bother to face him. “If someone had told you that the day the baron’s son got trapped, would you have?”

“Of course not.” There was a slight sneer in Corn’s tone. “It was life and death.”

“Oh, good,” Dwayne glanced back with a bitter smile, “you do understand.”

The professor frowned. “What are you talking about?”

Not bothering to answer, Dwayne turned back to the problem at hand. His usual “unorthodox” spells were useless here: Qechireeut would knock away the stones but likely break the beam, Qethumlidug could pull the stones off the pile but only using his own strength, Qetesfufyit was far too gentle on its own. The canon spells he knew were useless too, though they were more precise. If only he could make sure the lantern was safe first, then he could just collapse the pile…

Dwayne’s frustration cleared as a solution formed. He had a spell for this, one he’d used to defend Sanford. He returned back over to the hole and focused his attention on the ground beneath the lantern. “Qesheffuf. Qesheflim.”

So far, so good.

“What are you doing?”

Ignoring the professor, Dwayne put the rubble between himself and open lawn then pointed at it. “Qeieutem.”

His magic slammed into the rubble, sending stone and wood flying off into the field beyond, the recoil ringing Dwayne’s head like a bell. He was reaching his limit.

“Have you gone mad?”

Ignore him.

Focus.

Blinking away the pain, Dwayne approached the now flattened pile and made his way over to where the lantern had been. He placed his hand on a the boulder in his way. “Qetesfufyit.”

It flew away and hit the ground with a teeth-chattering crash. He had to move fast now before the pain grew to be too much.

He laid his hand on the wooden beam. “Qeuicienumke.”

It rose into the air.

“Qetesfufyit.”

It fell away, its impact causing lights to dance behind Dwayne’s eyelids. Six Qe spells. Not bad.

“Looks like you failed.” Corn looked down at the bare patch of ground Dwayne had worked so hard to unveil. “Looks like I’ll be filing that paperwork after all.”

“R-” Dwayne clamped his mouth shut. He real magic was trying to wriggle free, he wasn’t done yet. He was going to pass this class.

“Well, what a fine job this is,” sneered Corn. “You’ve finally shown what you’re worth.”

The basics of Qe magic were simple: imagine the result then cast the spell. Sure it was harder with a clanging headache, a sardonic professor, and a tongue that wanted to incinerate the man where he stood, but he’d do it. He had to.

Dwayne gestured at the empty patch of ground.

“Qesheffuf.”

The ground opened up.

“Qesheflim.”

A lit lantern rose into view on a pedestal of earth.

Dwayne picked it up, handed it to a stunned Professor Corn then walked without staggering up the hill. The moment he was on the other side of the hill and out of sight of the class he dropped to his knees, gritting his teeth to hold in the screaming and the flames. He had to cast a Ri spell, any Ri spell but not Ri’a’tha or Ri'iki'oora or Ri'mwe'ut because those were bright and hot, but something small, something he could pretend something an ordinary Souran could do, something like-“

“Ri'et'te.” A small spark flared up then died.

“Ri'et'te.” His tongue no longer felt tied in knots.

“Ri'et'te.” His headache faded and he could finally think.

Dwayne slumped. That had been too close. He couldn’t keep using the Qe core like this just like he couldn’t keep evading its maker.